To Remain A Memory
by GodFeedTheRaven
Summary: A sad one-shot about a twin coping without his other half


After everything that he's been through, after everything that's happened, he didn't think it would still hurt. Five years had passed and it still felt like he was staring at his dead brother for the first time. With time it had grown easier to deal with, but then again, he was fooling himself if he ever admitted that he thought things would every really be okay. It would always hurt. At first he didn't want to believe that there would always be a part of him missing, even until the day he himself died.

He was now resigned to the fact that his brother was gone and nothing would ever bring him back. It haunted him at night, every night. He knew he was slowly losing himself but what did that even matter when a part of himself was already gone.

A single raindrop fell on the shoulder of George Weasley as he stood up still staring at the grave. His brother's grave.

He turned around to see Angelina standing off in the distance underneath an oak tree waiting for him.

Angelina. She was the one person that could ever really make the pain go away. After all this time, he was still holding on to her like a lifeline trying to cover up the fact that he wasn't all there. She was his anchor, keeping him anchored to the ground when he desperatley wanted to drift away.

He couldn't escape it. It was harder for him and everyone knew it. His brother was his other half. They had had a connection that hardly anyone else could ever hope to have. Use to, it would seem like a blessing. Now it just felt more like a curse to him.

It was hard to pick up the pieces and move on when everything reminded him of his brother. Hell, they were twins. How did he escape that? Every morning that he got up to start his pre-day rituals, he had to look in the mirror, only to have his dead brother stare back at him.

They had been inseperable all their life. But death has a funny way of letting you live in fantasies only to bring them crashing down when you least expected it.

They were inseperable no more.

He sighed as he lay the flowers at his brothers headstone.

He didn't know what to think anymore. It seemed as if everytime he came and visited Fred, his mind would take control and replay moments from his life that he would rather forget about. No...Not forget about. He didn't want to forget about his brother. He just wanted the memories put back in his mind until the day that he could look back on them without falling apart everytime.

He was falling apart. He had been falling apart for the past five years and Angelina had been the only person to be able to reach him. Not that the others hadn't tried.

He knew his family had tried their hardest to bring him back to what he use to be, but he doubted he would ever be the same as before, even with Angelina's help; He was a different person now. The old George Weasley was gone replaced by a shell of his former self.

It was everyone's hope that someday he would resurface to become to man they had all loved. It was hard to become something you hated however.

Every morning George had always asked himself why his brother had to die instead of him. Who decided who got to live and who got to die? For a while he had hated his brother for leaving him alone but in time his anger with him had disappeared. It was not his fault.

Even now he was furious with whoever had taken his brother instead of him. His constant mantra of "Why you instead of me," replayed throughout his head everyday for the past five years did nothing to help him move on. In fact it dragged him down further and further each day. It was like his mind was playing tug-of-war with Angelina to see if he would ever fully recover or if he would live with the pain and regret.

He hated himself and the way he was now as well. George Weasley always prided himself on being a strong individual that when a sad situation arose, he would be the life that brought everything back together.

So why could he not even bring himself back?

He was standing on the edge of a very dark precipe and he couldn't even pull himself back from it. It was like behind him stood all the good and bad memories of his brother and in front of him stood the only visible release.

But he never jumped. Not fully anyway. There had been many close-calls but Angelina had been there to make sure he didn't ever leave the memories of his brother behind, or the memories of anyone else he had loved and cared about for that matter.

He was being selfish he knew. He had not been the only person to have lost someone in the war. Harry had lost so much more than him. His sister Ginny had even lost more than him.

He had been ashamed in the beginning that he was not there to comfort them like he should have been. He was only thinking about himself.

Harry and Ginny however had each other to deal with their problems. George had no one.

Well he had Angelina, but she couldn't ever understand exactly what he was going through. Not fully anyways. He did appreciate her determination to bring him back immensely though.

Somedays it would seem like the old him was back even if it was for a glance or a brief exchange of laughter. He wanted to be back just as much as everyone wanted him back. He was tired of walking around pining after his brother. His brother wouldn't have wanted him to be acting this way.

He guessed it just came with the package of losing someone you loved. Everyone was different. Everyone dealt with loss differently and no one was any weaker or stronger because of it, and in that respect he did not blame himself for the person he had become.

He just had to keep hoping that it would get easier with time and that one of these days he could look in the mirror without feeling some kind of pain or hear himself talk without his voice cracking.

It started raining as George made his way back to Angelina. She came with him everytime for moral support or to be there should he break down. He didn't know but whatever the case, he was grateful. He didn't want to be alone anymore.

Angelina looked up at him as if to ask if he were alright.

He looked at her and kissed her softly before pulling her under his arm, his arm around her shoulders. No words were spoken. No words were needed.

By some unspoken consent, they slowly made their way out of the small graveyard

George knew then that everything would be okay with time. They say time heals all wounds and he believed it then. He would keep pushing on because that's what his brother would've wanted. And his brother would never truly be gone. His brother would be forever; to remain a memory.


End file.
